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“We take turns. Drive all night.”
    â€œHey, it sounds important.”
    â€œDirty work with cross feet?” Zainal asked.
    â€œ
Crossroads
,” Kris corrected in spite of realizing that he was being deliberately obtuse.
    â€œSticky wicket, huh?” Joe said, and neatly finished recoiling the ropes. “Let’s move out. I’ll drive first. I’ve had a breather.”
    Both Slav and Fek liked to stand up in the front of the load bed of the vehicle, hanging on to the frame, staying alert and watchful. Sarah and Leila sat in the wide front seat with Joe. Kris, Whitby, and Zainal arranged themselves on the bedrolls in the back. Zainal then slid down until he could put his head on Kris’ shoulder, folded his arms, and promptly went to sleep in the smooth-riding air-cushioned ground machine.

CHAPTER 2

    T hey arrived back in Camp Rock by sunset of the next day, having pushed the vehicle to the limits of its panel-supplied power. Joe was of the opinion that the two full moons had been bright enough to keep the power levels high but Whitby and Leila had argued the point. It made an interesting discussion during the long hours of the trek, when they halted only long enough for natural requirements and to bag a few rocksquats. Joe turned out to be correct about the power, though the vehicle had slowed down considerably.
    The sentry hailed them on their approach and rang the bell so that Worrell and Mitford were awaiting them in the parking area, one of Camp Rock’s newer amenities. A big hauler and a small runabout, reserved for Mitford’s use, occupied the space.
    â€œWe heard the transport,” Zainal said as he swung down from the driver’s seat. “Another drop?”
    â€œYeah, another thirteen hundred reluctant colonists,” Mitford said with a grimace.
    â€œYour species shouldn’t be so difficult to manage,” Zainal said with a grin.
    â€œWe also had to answer another message,” Mitford said, showing his teeth.
    â€œTell me,” Zainal said.
    â€œWe’ll just unpack,” Joe said tactfully, and gestured to the others.
    Zainal caught Kris’ arm as Mitford and Worrell started up the stone steps that led to the height’s office. The two-roomed stone building had been built on a leveled-off area, well above any spring flood that might rampage down the gorge that split Camp Rock. Aerials and solar panels were attached to the slated roof of the good-sized facility. A desk, occupied as much by Mitford as Worrell in his capacity as Rock’s manager, commanded a view down the length of the camp from the main window. From the other, smaller one, the view was across sloping stone to the first of the Farmers’ fields.
    Mitford gestured for all to sit on the stools and benches provided. “Leon’s coming,” he added. “Lemme fill you in.”
    Zainal nodded.
    â€œThe unit buzzed off shortly before we heard the transport angling in for a landing.”
    â€œUsual field?” Zainal asked.
    Mitford nodded. “They’ve got that much right at any rate. Leon got a message that suggested the commando group was to meet with the transport and deliver your unconscious body. Certainly there was a group hanging around near the hedges doing nothing, apart from peering around and listening to their wrists a lot.”
    â€œWhat did you say back?”
    â€œLeon told them the search continued.”
    Zainal frowned slightly. “What words did he use?”
    â€œI knew the right ones,” Leon said, entering just then and leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath from the climb. “I always had a team watching me operate on any wounded Catteni. I got used to some of the distinctions Emassi made. So I adopted a hoarse whisperin case it was the female who was to report.” Zainal shook his head, his expression inscrutable. “I said,” and Leon put one hand on his windpipe to alter the sounds